Tarnished Silver
by BrokenChosenofEva
Summary: They saved Beacon from Cinder's schemes, and stopped Adam and his Fang. Fifteen years later - after graduation and starting their careers as Huntresses - Weiss is on her own, North of Vale and just looking for a meal and a room. (Beta'd and edited by Zephyrus Genesis, an amazing writer you can find here on Fanfiction net. See notes inside)


**[Author note: This will be the only chapter of Tarnished Silver uploaded on FFnet, the full story will be on AO3 and updated on mondays. As of this posting, two chapters are up. I must apologize for the next bit: with so much of my work scattered across four harddrives, and RL shifting me about, I likely won't be getting back to the stories here that are incomplete, but if I do then their completed forms will be found over on AO3. If you'd like to adopt a story, please let me know so I can read your take on it.]**

Wood struck brass in a ring of greeting as she stepped into the tavern, glad to be out of the rain (little more than a light drizzle) and letting the door shut behind her. She was only slightly damp, fortunately, the Dust lining her attire repelling most of the water so it was really only her hair that was wet. All the same, the warmth of life and hearth was a welcome relief to the darkening chill of falling night.

So, one hand absently brushing an edge of curved silver as her other settled on Myrtenaster's pommel, Weiss squared her shoulders and crossed the tavern floor to approach the counter. Her request for a coffee and a sandwich being met with an affirming nod, that done, she selected an empty table nearer a secluded corner and took a seat, glad to finally be off her feet.

_Looks like a storm's brewing._ She mused with a trace of dark amusement. Rolling clouds and heavy rains, a perfect match to her equally dour mood, though it raised the question as to whether she'd get much, if any, sleep that night…

Well, sleep or not, at least she had shelter and the silent promise of a clean, though not necessarily warm, bed to rest in. Settling back in her chair as she waited for her order, Weiss let her gaze wander around the room and the assortment of characters scattered throughout.

The locals were easy enough to distinguish, clad in worn but well patched clothing dirty from the long day's work, relaxing and visiting amiably with neighbors and friends before returning to their own homes for the night. Their manner tired, though content as, while perhaps not _thriving_ they were surviving well_._ Others were more like Weiss herself, travelers seeking a brief respite before forging onward on whatever journey they were on, clad in more complex outfits in various states of repair.

For some reason or another, Weiss found her attention settling on one in particular: a somewhat scruffily clad man who's dark shirt and off-white vest, while rumpled and touched with travel dust, were obviously of a higher quality than most of the tavern's other patrons save for Weiss herself. Higher quality, yet obviously made for hard use, rather like Huntsman attire.

_Hm…_

For want of anything better to occupy her mind, she continued her examination of the maybe-Hunstman. Clothes aside, she wasn't entirely sure what had made him stand out to her in the first place, and it was an acceptable time waster trying to pin it down. He had no weapon that she could see, though that didn't mean much, and his clothes weren't _quite _eye catching enough to support her theory.

In fact, the most eye-catching feature of the man was his hair, covered though it was by a bandanna, his bangs long enough to obscure half of his face as he stared down at the half-filled glass before him.

A frown marred Weiss' brow, an odd sense of _familiarity_ nagging quietly in the back of her mind. That shock of orange combed to one side, ending in an almost feathered curl-

Like the flip of a switch, recognition dawned and was followed immediately be denial. _It couldn't be._ She reasoned as the waiter brought her food and drink. The odds of such a happenstance meeting was infinitesimal and while she couldn't deny the similarities, she couldn't ignore the obvious differences.

She took a sip of her coffee, nibbling absently at her sandwich.

_Not so many differences_. She had to admit. Mostly just shallow aesthetics. Not that she herself really favored the same style as she had ten years ago, what with the white dress and bolero of her youth now replaced by her current gray blouse and combat skirt under a dusty red blazer.

But what if…

Well, if he _was _who she thought he was then…this certainly wasn't what she'd have expected. Not from him. In her mind's eye she could still see the immaculate suit and feather-tipped hat.

She could almost hear a chirpy, sorely missed voice egging her on, urging her to _investigate_ the mystery that was all but begging to be solved_._ An urging she really had no reason to deny. If she were wrong it was no skin off her nose and it may even prove amusing.

So, that decided, she lingered just long enough to deposit a polite tip before collecting both plate and mug and leaving her chair. The man didn't seem to react as she sat down across from him, instead continuing to stare deeply into the viscous amber pooling at the bottom of his glass. It let her take advantage of the closer proximity to continue her previous examination, noting the angled lines of his jaw and what may have been dark liner around a visible jade eye.

Next to certain now, Weiss waited a moment (several, actually) to see if he'd acknowledge her presence in some way. He didn't, and eventually curiosity (and the silent urgings) won out over justifiable caution as she leaned forward, arms braced casually against the tabletop between them. "Hello, Torchwick."

The corners of the Master Thief's mouth quirked up slightly as he at last met her gaze. "Ice Queen." He returned pleasantly. "Fancy meeting you here."

"It's…been a long time since anyone's called me that." Blinking away a sudden wash of pain-tinged nostalgia, Weiss shrugged. "And I could say the same of you."

Offering a nonchalant shrug of his own, Torchwick straightened up and leaned back in his seat. Giving her a lazy once over, his gaze dropped briefly on the emblem fastened to her belt, lingering a moment before rising again to meet her eyes.

"It was you…wasn't it?" Chest oddly tight, Weiss let her fingers brush again along the edges of the silver rose as she held his gaze. Not exactly a question, but she hoped the slight tilt of her head properly conveyed her curiosity. The unvoiced question.

Canting his head, Torchwick gave her a wan smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"No…" Weiss sighed, letting the fluttering hope slip from her grasp. "I don't suppose you do." She eased slightly in her seat, expression relaxing into a safe neutral with neither a smile nor a frown. "I never got the chance, so please forgive me for wanting those words off my chest."

Torchwick let out a low hum, vaguely amused, but otherwise held his peace.

"It's odd…no, let me rephrase…" Frowning, Weiss looked him over again. "You look different, without your suit…"

Swishing his glass lazily, a faint smirk settled on the man's face before he took a small sip. "That's kinda the point."

"Fair enough." She allowed, sipping her own drink, and finding herself unable to resist further fishing. "Bit far from Vale, though, aren't you?"

"Also the point." Gloved fingers drummed against fogged glass. "That warrant was never rescinded and I rather like my head where it is, thank you very much."

_Oh…_ The wince that brought was genuine. Weiss had never hated the felon, like she'd never hated her Father or the SDC. Not like she'd loathed Cinder, or despised Neo. Two hates that had long since burned out. It simply wasn't worth the energy to dog ghosts.

"Junior complains about you not visiting." Weiss blurted in a hushed tone, mentally cringing as Torchwick quirked a brow at her. Surely she could have opted for a better topic. _Like what?_ A darker part of her mind snarked. _The weather?_

Small talk. How she loathed it.

Torchwick gave her a somewhat curious look. "Does he, now?" He tilted his head again. "That starved for intelligent company, are you?"

Yes. Yes she was. Not that she'd admit it out loud. "Yang used to go there sometimes." Weiss said instead, somewhat defensive before she made herself relax again. "He's…easy to talk to."

"He is indeed." Another lazy swish of his glass as Torchwick stared into the amber liquid sloshing inside. "Nice to know some things never change."

"He had some gray, last I saw." She felt compelled to add, inwardly relieved that she hadn't committed some faux pas. She'd made more than her fair share inside the past decade. "That was…" Pausing, she reviewed the date. "Early last month."

"Must've run out of dye." Was the blasé response. "He's been gray for decades." His lips curled into a sly smirk as he added. "Stress-induced gray."

"I can't imagine why." Weiss deadpanned, smirk on her own face as she quirked a brow at him, which only prompted a wide-eyed blink-of-innocence in response. At that, she rolled her eyes, letting a chuckle escape. "Of course." Pausing, fingers tracing the silver rose once more as she stared past him at nothing in particular. "…Are you doing well?"

"Meh." A shrug and a waggled hand. "Could be better, could be a helluva lot worse."

"He'll be glad to know. That I saw you, I mean." She offered a careless shrug as her fingers curled around the emblem at her waist, then she smirked again. "He even managed to make_me_ worried, if you can believe that."

"That's Junior," A cheery quip touched with obvious fondness. "spreading the misery around."

"He certainly does that rather well-"

"Closing in a few minutes, you two." Head snapping up, Weiss saw the tavern keeper gesturing to the quickly emptying room. "If you've paid for one, get to yer room. Otherwise, please leave."

Torchwick glanced over his shoulder at the man, then glanced at the nearest shuttered window, rattling under what was obviously the start of the promised rain, before looking to Weiss once more. "I've got a room if you don't want to get your hair wet."

Jerking straight in her seat, Weiss let out an annoyed huff as she fixed the man with a somewhat offended look. "I _can _pay for my own room. Maybe I'm just a former-heiress, but I'm not _poor_." Looking down stiffly, she wrapped the mostly-untouched sandwich in a napkin, placing it in her pouch for later, when her previous tone registered and she winced, looking up again, somewhat contrite. "But…I'd be grateful. Please, lead on."

Standing, completely unbothered by her brusqueness, Torchwick offered a slight bow as he took her offered hand. "This way then, milady."

Weiss blinked at his gentle grip, letting him help her to her feet, and followed as he led her back in the direction of the rentable rooms. The owner, she noted distantly, was watching them as they passed. Part of her couldn't help but feel a bit heckled at the look, but she ignored it with practiced ease. She wasn't a Schnee, anymore, so what did it matter how this might look to the uninformed?

The room Torchwick had rented was small. Smaller than the dorm Weiss had once shared with her team, but seemed less cramped in comparison. Granted, such enclosed quarters were not meant to house a rowdy quartet of adolescents for months at a time, so that'd explain the apparent discrepancy. Against one wall was a twin-sized bet, worn but decently maintained, with a vanity desk against the wall opposite and pair of stools against the third wall, beneath the window. It was, she could readily admit, certainly better than she could have hoped for considering some of the other taverns and inns she'd visited over the years.

"_Soooo~_" Sauntering across the room, Torchwick flopped, albeit gracefully, down on the further stool. "What's a former heiress to do these days? I'll admit I've been curious since I heard _that_ juicy bit of gossip."

Was that supposed to be a jab?

"Can't you tell?" Arching a brow, Weiss tossed her head and gestured to her attire and faithful weapon. "I'm a Huntress. Just like I wanted."

"Really?" Elbows on knees, he let his chin rest on steepled fingers. "Word on the grape vine contradicts the simplicity of your statement."

Ice blue eyes narrowed. "And what word would that be, Torchwick?" Tense, Weiss let her arms fold beneath her bosom. "This _is_ what I wanted, tabloids be damned."

That got an arched brow. "You know…" He hummed thoughtfully. "I can't tell if you're trying to pass it off, or if you really don't see it."

"Just spit it out." Voice clipped, she leveled a glare at the man even as her fingers dug indents into her arms.

"Nah." Stretching back, careful not to overbalance, he had the gall to flash her a cheeky grin. "I think I'll let you puzzle it out." A pause. "Though for the sake of fairness, I'd say a little red's colored that immaculate snow of yours."

Was _that_ why he'd invited her back here? To prod at old hurts?

"You mean my jacket? It's as close to Ruby's color as I can stand." Though she tried, Weiss could feel her ire flaring beyond her control as she tugged at the hem of her blazer, a haze wavering across her vision. "Or are you referring to how I was _disowned_ by my father for hunting Yang and R-Ruby's killer?" She almost choked on the words. "Because neither are _fucking funny, Torchwick_!" That damned grin never faded, but perhaps a hint of steel had entered jade eyes, to which Weiss sneered even as she failed to bury her pain. Didn't even bother trying. There was no point. "What? Want me to say it? '_Oh how the mighty have fallen'_, I'm just an ex-heiress out doing '_commoner'_ work, disowned and down on her luck. Go ahead, point and_laugh-_"

The sudden poke to her forehead snapped her from her tirade, and almost reeling from the seat she couldn't remember taking. Torchwick's grin was gone now as he stared at her. "Missing the forest for the trees, Sweetheart." Leaning back again, his gaze flickered down to the rose emblem on her hip and jade eyes softened. "You'll see it, eventually."

Still sputtering, Weiss watched him, a puzzled frown settling on her face. "It…it's what she wanted…" Oh Dust, please don't let her start _crying_ now. "It's what _I _want. I just…" Wilting, she looked away. "I don't know if she'd be proud of me…I failed them. Even Blake-"

"Short term?" Something in his voice made the Huntress glance up again. "Maybe, but I have a feeling they'd disagree. Long term? Not so much?"

"What do you mean?" Weiss muttered, gaze drifting down to lock on the silver emblem.

"Not _tel-ling~_" Was the sing-song response. "You need to figure it out for yourself, Sweetheart." A deliberate pause. "Might help if you stopped to smell the roses once in a while, rather than burn yourself out."

_Oh for…_ What was _wrong _with the man? One moment he seemed almost sympathetic, the next he was teasing her again!

"I'm _not _burning myself out." Huffing, Weiss crossed her arms again. "I don't understand why you can't just say it, instead of maintaining this _mysterious _air…" And there _was _something more to what he was saying, she could all but taste it. Like those subtle barbs she'd grown up with, concealed under pretty words but no less sharp for it.

"Uh…" Cocking his head, Torchwick gestured pointedly to himself. "Eh?"

"Right, of course. How could I forget?" The man had the audacity to snicker and, in spite of herself, Weiss found a chuckle bubbling up as she let her arms drop again, smile touching her lips. "It's still you, even now, isn't it?" Still the rapscallion, refusing to conform to commonly acknowledge 'propriety' be it with his criminal profession or his deliberate flouting of social etiquette. "I…I suppose I thought there wasn't anyone left, just me and my memories…"

"Heh, I hear ya."

An almost comfortable silence fell between them. Lingered a long moment as Weiss felt the contours of silver petals one more time before looking up again. "Torchwick…"

"Mm?"

"What…" Her voice caught, so she cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms. "What are your plans for tomorrow? My mission is already over and reported in, so…" She trailed off, leaving it an open question. Former animosity aside, they _knew _each other and she wondered whether he'd push her away or continuing maintaining this façade of friendship.

If she were honest with herself, being rejected wouldn't hurt, but she hoped he might let her in. It had been…a long time since she'd worked with anyone. Anyone she knew, at least. And whether Torchwick was legitimate these days or still deep in the black market…

Weiss didn't think she cared.

He eyed her curiously before shrugging. "Depends on the weather, really. Probably stick around here if it's still raining. Got a few days before I actually have to be anywhere."

Not a rebuttal, but not quite an invitation either.

Good enough.

"If you aren't against it, and it's not _too _illegal, I might stay around." Shrugging, Weiss glanced out the window and the now heavy rains obscuring all beyond. "I…guess I could use the company."

"Yeaaah…bit of a wall flower, aren't you?"

Again with the teasing, but Weiss found herself more flustered than annoyed and immediately grateful for the tan nurtured over years of constant sun. It meant her blush wasn't near as obvious as it had been on her once pale skin. "No one really pays attention to disinherited heiresses, unless it's over some public faux pas." The admission came out in a low murmur.

"Oh, you'd be surprised." Torchwick chuckled. "But, no, I'm not against you sticking around."

Looking back to him, brow arched at the comment, Weiss allowed a smile at the verbal consent.

"Be nice to have some intelligent company for a while," He went on carelessly. "Even short-sighted company."

The snipe got a frown, and the nagging sense that she was missing something. "I see I'll experience no shortage of snark from you." Not necessarily a bad thing, a verbal joust may be just what she needed and none of his teasing had been truly hurtful or malign, just mischievous.

He shot her a winning smile. "Always happy to be of service."

Now she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure, Torchwick." Slowly, she stood from the stool. Stretched slightly. "Now, I need to go secure a room for myself. I'll scroll it to you- you _do _have your scroll, yes? Perhaps we can meet over breakfast in the morning…"

"I suppose now would be a good time to mention that there aren't any free rooms at the moment?"

Weiss couldn't quite manage to suppress her wince. "Oh?" She tried for casual, unconcerned. "Well, I…"

A careless wave of a dark-clad arm cut her off as Torchwick gestured in the direction of the bed. "Stool's comfy enough."

Blinking, she had to take a moment to reconcile the apparent conflict between words and motion. She balked. "I'm not making you sleep on a _stool_, Torchwick!" Weiss rocked back on the heels of her boots. "I'll…I'll just sleep on the floor, if you'd spare me the comforter."

Another gesture, incredulous this time, to first the sparsely-made bed and then to the rest of the room. Torchwick gave her an arch look "A _comforter? _Are you serious?"

"It's better than what I usually get on missions."

"Just take the bed, Ice Queen." Weiss flinched at the nickname, nerves still feeling a touch raw, as Torchwick stretched out once more, settling so his back rested firmly against the wall behind him while his legs stretched out before him, crossing at the ankles. "Really, I've had worse." Folding his arms across his chest he let his head dip, eyes already closed.

The tension eased from her shoulders as her expression softened. "I suppose you have." Moving to the bed she shucked her boots and socks, pausing just long enough to hang her blazer on one of the bedposts before pulling the covers back. Hesitating, she looked back to the already-dozing man. "Thank you, Torchwick."

"Don't mention it, Sweetheart." Was the murmured response.

It felt like it was intended to be mocking, the nickname, the tone, like everything else in the man's attitude, yet, somehow, it left her…calm. As if it were one of Yang's nicknames, a teasing title to express whether she liked or hated you. Comforting.

Slipping between the sheets, Weiss settled with her back to the room. An action atypical of her. Ever since she'd begun traveling on her own she always kept her back to a wall. But… Torchwick wasn't a threat, and she highly doubted he was a heavy sleeper. If there was a threat, one of them would wake to it.

Knowing that someone else was there to keep watch…maybe she'd get more than her usual quota of sleep tonight.

Hopefully, if that wasn't the case, she wouldn't bother him if she woke in the night.

**-0-**

In the darkness of the rented room, Roman woke. For a moment, he remained perfectly still, feigning continued sleep as he took stock of his surroundings in search of what had disturbed him. No one had entered the room, there were no screams to signify a late-night Grimm incursion, and there were none of the other warnings of imminent danger.

Not a threat then. That let some of the coiled tension ease from his muscles, though he remained alert nonetheless as he sourced out the disturbance.

It was the whimpers that registered first, followed by the shifting of cheap (if sturdy) sheets. Opening his eyes, Roman glanced in the direction of his impromptu roommate and honestly couldn't find it in himself to be surprised.

Stretching, and waiting for the inevitable mid-inhalation hitch of breath to pass, he stood up. Fixing the shuttered window, clattering slightly under the continued downpour, with a moody stare as he rubbed absently at various sore areas, he moved to the bed. He didn't have to be a Faunus to navigate the darkness, not like there was anything to trip over in the sparse room, and the faint ambient illumination was more than enough for him to make out the shape of sprawled limbs and tangling covers.

Small, stuttering breaths suggested tears (Roman could almost swear he could taste salt when he inhaled) and the lack of response to his approach assured him of the little Huntress's continued lack of consciousness.

Nightmare. Obviously.

Letting out a low sigh, he reached out. "Hey, Ice Queen-"

"_NO!"_

_Guess I had that coming…_ Roman mused, stumbling back from the flailing blow with a wince and brutally smothering the urge to cough. Grunting, he leaned forward again to catch first one, then the other wayward not-quite-a-fist and pinned them to the mattress as he barked: "Hey! _Wake up!"_

There was a sharp gasp and a violent jerk, but not so violent as to break his grip, as the little Huntress snapped awake. Struggled a moment at the restraint. Then went mostly limp as her frame shook with barely-suppressed sobs and strangled breaths.

"T-Tor-Torchwick? I- I…what? Where?"

"The Tavern, remember? You bunked in my room for the night."

"Your…" He felt her strain slightly under his grip and he eased up, taking a prudent step back. "Right…right, the tavern. I-"

Taking a calculated risk, Roman reached out to let one hand rest on a narrow shoulder. "You're keeping a wanted thief company." He couldn't, quite, keep the irony from his tone.

"You're the only one who hasn't left-"

Roman wasn't sure if it was a hiccup that cut her off or if she'd choked on her words. One dainty hand snapped to her mouth, smothering any further sound save for her audible gulps for air. He waited as she counted down, recognizing the calming technique for what it was. Under his hand he felt her pulse slowing from its frantic rhythm as she tried to control her breathing. She was moderately successful, though the persistent hitch remained

"Hey." Roman let his thumb brush against her sweaty brow. "It's alright." He felt the faded roughness of keloid tissue and felt her breath hitch again at the contact.

Once more she counted down, and Roman waited patiently for her to finish. By the end she was markedly calmer, though some tremors remained.

"I'm- I'm fine, now. Sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it." He shrugged off the apology, letting his hand settle back on her shoulder. "Honestly, I'd be more concerned if you _didn't_ have nightmares. You're coping abilities are kinda nonexistent."

An indignant huff. "I cope perfectly well." The would-be scathing retort was kinda ruined by the lack of heat and continued quiver in her voice. She took a breath, held it a moment, then slowly let it out. "I normally bunk alone. I'd thought…I thought it wouldn't bother me." A scoff. "Should've known, with the storm, that was a pitiful hope."

"Bad nights, they sneak up on everyone." Roman reasoned, glancing at the shuttered window again. "Can't say I blame you for the storm bit, either."

"Not me…" The words were soft, pained. "We found Ruby on a night like this. I've never slept through a storm since."

The image of a still form covered in more red than fabric would account for flashed through Roman's mind and he couldn't quite stop his grimace. "I know." He felt, more than saw, her shift to look at him in obvious surprise.

"You…is…that why?"

"Among…other reasons."

"…oh." There was an awkward clearing-of-throat before the young woman twisted enough to sit up. "You're making us both uncomfortable." She stated crisply. "Sit."

"If you insist." Roman sat on the edge of the bed and let the darkness hide his grin as he felt annoyance waft from his roommate.

"Actually sit, Torchwick…" A soft pat to the mattress beside her. "I won't bite…"

That- No, _no_, he'd be a good gentleman and refrain from jumping on the obvious opening. Really, it was too obvious and he didn't really fancy the thought of being swatted again. Still, it was almost too tempting to resist.

"I could use the company." The little former heiress went on obliviously. "At least until I fall back asleep."

She made it really hard for a man to behave himself.

"Yeah, well, kinda working not to offend your delicate sensibilities, here."

A snort. "If I had any _delicate _sensibilities left, I'd have never followed you in here." A huff and he saw her silhouette pat the mattress again, harder this time. "And if I had none at all, you'd have been here instead of on that stool. _Sit._" Order given she shifted back to lean against the wall, obviously waiting.

_Woof_. Well that about took all the fun out of the situation now, didn't it?

For a long moment, Roman remained where he was, staring at her intently, checking for any hidden motives or intent. Seeing none, he shrugged and did as requested.

"Finally, someone _listens._"

He grinned at the muttered words as he settled beside her, a polite distance between them.

"Like keeping watch." Uh-oh, rambling incoming. "Only no fire, we're indoors, and technically should be watching each other but for now we're allies not enemies-"

"Well," Roman cut in. "I've never been one for offing a bedpartner, a bit too crude for my tastes." He almost lost his composure entirely as she choked and sputtered outright.

"D- did you absolutely _have _to say 'bedpartner' in that tone?"

"What tone?" Heheh, even his grin was audible.

"Of course." Was the huffed response and he thought maybe she was smiling in return. The tension eased out of her gradually as the silence stretched between them. It wasn't long before Roman heard her breathing even out at last.

He was in the middle of debating whether he should return to his stool when a sudden weight on his shoulder made him glance down. Gravity had beckoned and the little princess had tipped against him.

Heh.

"Sleep well, Sweetheart."

**-0-**

Consciousness, for the first time in _years_, came in a slow, gradual manner. She was warm, back to a wall and bundled in the sheet with a warm body in front of her-

Body?

It took a moment for the cotton to lift from her mind and the memories of the previous night to resurface.

"_Torchwick…_" She breathed, feeling a slight burn of mortification at her complete loss of composure after her nightmare. But only slight, she found she couldn't muster the energy for true indignation. Instead she settled for freeing a hand and pressing it lightly against his bare back. The man twitched slightly at the touch (confirming that he was, in fact, real and not some delusion) but otherwise didn't stir.

She had a wanted felon out cold in her bed. Ruby probably would have found the situation hilarious_._ Yang _certainly_ would have, and given no respite to the crude jokes that would surely have followed.

Clearing her throat, Weiss nudged him harder. "Torchwick. Sun's out, we should be getting up and making plans…" Belatedly she registered the feel of naked skin beneath her palm. The realization didn't stir much, if any, reaction from her. So much so that she had to wonder at her _lack _of reaction to waking with a man sharing her bed. Granted, on top of the covers (all but pinning her in her little cocoon) but it was still sharing a mattress. And a mattress not really meant for two people at that, no matter how petite she had remained, Torchwick was by no means _small…_

Dark coils over pale flesh drew her attention. A tattoo, she realized after a moment's confusion, of sharp brambles stretching across his right shoulder and along his back, drops of blood hanging from the scattered thorns and framing the vivid red rose set in the center of the design. Her gaze shied away from the centerpiece, instead following the brambles as they curled lower until a patch of discolored skin on his lower back caught her attention.

An achingly familiar style of discoloration. A scar. An old stab wound matching the killing blows both Yang and Ruby had suffered. A single, deliberate thrust from a honed estoc blade.

Obviously Torchwick hadn't escaped Cinder scot-free.

Sitting upright, absently noting the presence of Myrtenaster resting within easy reach, Weiss took the opportunity to look over the sleeping man beside her. As she'd thought the night before, lack of obvious weapons did not mean weapons were not present: a collapsible baton rested in his sleeping grip, its twin on the vanity atop a folded pile that was his shirt, vest, and bandanna. His hair, now loose, was mussed and framing his sleeping face. Unaware as he was, he seemed almost at ease, though she doubted he was truly relaxed. Was likely ready to burst into motion at the slightest hint of danger, in fact. A necessary reflex for one living as dangerous a life as he.

_I shouldn't be taking this so calmly…_

Something to think about later. For now, she had a day to greet and things to do. "Torchwick, wake up you lazy miscreant."

"Says the one who slept past noon." Was the immediate response. As she'd thought, the appearance of ease had been exactly that. The man rolled to lay flat on his back, hands tucking behind his head as he gave her a lazy half-lidded look.

Weiss blinked, unable to help a sense of dismay though it was quickly replaced by resignation. "A wasted day."

"Well, I wouldn't call a full dose of uninterrupted sleep _wasted."_

"It is when it uses up a day better spent planning or going to the next mission." She huffed, taking the opportunity to glance over him again and wincing at the sight of a vivid bruise over his ribs. "That looks recent. What happened?"

Torchwick glanced down. "Ah, well…" A shrug. "Silly ol' me forgot that Huntsmen come up swinging. Not my brightest moment."

_Come up sw-_

"Oh…" Wincing again, Weiss realized the bruise was roughly the size of the back of her fist. Then winced once more as she noted a _second _patch of puckered skin at the bruise's center. _Ouch. _Clearing her throat, she gave it a pointed look before meeting his eyes. "I see you aren't as good at escaping as you always made it seem…"

He looked almost amused. "Sure I am. I'd have been a Grimm's dinner otherwise." She doubted he was being metaphorical this time as a light frown marred his brow. "And they cheated." Torchwick gave another shrug. "Sides, I'm still kicking. Same can't be said for _them_." His grin was accented by a sharp, malicious flash of teeth.

"True." Weiss' matching grin lacked any real heat, old grudges held only in her memories, left long behind. "So, do you have any plans? The rain seems to have stopped and I'm not really on any set schedule. I just…drift from town to town."

Yawning, Torchwick stretched out to his full length, various joints cracking audibly in the process. "Not sure, still early yet." Relaxing again, he swung up into a sitting position with casual grace. "I'll just have to see what crops up." He glanced at her before getting off the bed and moving to the vanity.

"A drifter? That…seems rather unlike you." Brow arched, she watched him move about in the light of mid-day streaming through the window. Had he opened the shutters earlier? She certainly hadn't, but wasn't complaining as it brought to light features of the man she hadn't noticed previously. Such as the faintest hint of gray at his temple. As he tugged his shirt over his head she wondered how old he was now.

An amused smirk drew her attention. "By the way, got any hobbies?"

Weiss blinked. "Other than reading, not…really."

"Sweatheart, you need to learn to live a little." He chided, buttoning up his vest. "Even the Kitty-cat does more than that." Dexterous fingers combed through orange hair, fluffing it before he replaced his bandanna.

"You've seen Blake?" It hurt to hope, hurt to show it, but despite this being _Roman Torchwick _she didn't feel any real need to conceal any vulnerabilities. He'd already seen her nightmares, after all, and had offered comfort and support in place of contempt or jeers. "How long ago?" And if, maybe, she wished to avoid her own shortcomings a bit longer, then no one would call her on it.

Leaning back against the vanity as his arms folded over his chest, Torchwick arched a dark brow. "You honestly think I'd willingly get within a hundred miles of that little queen?" He snorted at her dirty look. "Hardly. I might know a guy or two in the area, though. They keep me updated." A considerate pause, then he added: "Last I heard a certain peel-throwin' monkey was trying to talk her into going to Mistral. A certain amount of begging may be involved."

"Sun is still hounding her, then?" Weiss asked, eager for more information. "I'm glad. I'd asked him to keep an eye on her, and keep in touch, but of course I'd forgotten who I was asking. I've never heard of him keeping his Scroll charged more than _he_ needs it to be."

"Yeah, he does seem to have an aversion to Scroll calls." Torchwick grinned. "There's a story involving a stolen scroll, snail-mail, and a sticky note that my contacts love laughing over." He paused deliberately, then added. "I should add that the stolen Scroll belonged to his _partner."_

That promised to be a hilarious story. "You'll have to share it with me sometime, so I'll have something to taunt him with the next time I'm out in Vacuo. I-" A chime from her Scroll, a truncated version of a Grimm Alert Siren, had her dropping the sentence in favor of scrambling over to answer it. "This is Weiss." She shot Torchwick a distracted, apologetic look as she focused on the voice on the other end.

In her peripheral vision she could see him moving about the room as she listened to a report of a looming Grimm incursion on a nearby village that threatened to be too much for local defenders.

Ending the call, Weiss looked up and began to speak-

-to an empty room.

That…stung. Odd as it was to admit.

"What, no 'goodbye'?" She murmured, leaning back against the wall. "I didn't think we were still that much at odds…" Shaking her head, she straightened up again. Much as she'd dearly love a shower, it would have to wait until _after _the village was safe.

Belting Myrtenaster to her side, she left the tavern.

**-0-**

_**[R.B.T.]**_

Bemused, Weiss stared down at the number she had most certainly _not _put into her Scroll's contact list. For a reason she couldn't quite pin down, the sight of it brought a smile to her lips and, for a moment, her finger lingered over the '_Call'_ option. Then she scrolled up to tap Ruby's code.

Maybe she wouldn't be able to make it for this year's anniversary, but she at least she could do this for her lost partner.

**[Author's note continued: This story was, minus some editing, actually completed roughly a year ago. If you liked it, feel free to leave a review, but also go to AO3 where I use the same handle and story title. You'll find a new chapter every monday, and as it's already finished you will eventually have the full story to enjoy.]**


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